If only early morning could last all day. I love it so much. In the summer, I sit in the backyard as early as I can, when the sound of the highway miles away is all I hear. I pretend it is the white noise of the ocean, that dull, full clatter.
In winter, I'm inside, watching the windows go from black to ultraviolet to, at last, gray, occasionally blue. Usually gray. I get up early. When I was in school or working in offices, I never got enough sleep. I hated morning so much. I was a crabby riser, a crabby showerer, a crabby dresser, and very crabby hair-doer. It's my least-favorite daily activity, by far. My dream is to one day get one of those dryers like at the beauty parlor, where you sit under the thing and it gently poufs up your head while you read People. Whenever they tell me I'm "done" there, I leave so reluctantly it's pathetic. I stare back at the chair while they lead me over to the . . . mirror. No. Nooooo. Just let me stay in that warm, gently blowing chair and read. Some day I'm gonna get me one o' them things, I swear. It would be so nice, especially in the winter, when, seriously, who on earth wants to be blasting oneself with the monstrous hand-held hairdryer in the pitch-black depths of 6 a.m., while standing? Gah. The alternative is air-drying, and having a head that looks like a Weeble (as in, they "wobble" but don't fall down; as in "hair, plastered to one's cone-shaped skull" [at least, they used to look like that — I don't even know if they still make them] ) for the rest of the (very long) day. Anyway. Nevermind. Let's look at the next pretty picture.
Ahhh. Better. Why would you want to disturb the silence of that. You wouldn't. Which is why you should always grind your coffee and set up the coffee maker before you go to bed. Better yet, let the hubby do that. He makes better coffee. Speaking of, he won't be drinking coffee anytime soon. The whole "I feel better today . . . I think" thing turned out to be a cruel illusion; what he feels is actually worse, which is why he is still upstairs in bed, having called in sick to work again (after having gotten sent home from it yesterday), claiming that the only way he feels okay is if he stays completely horizontal. I'm starting to worry. He's on the BRAT diet: bananas, rice, applesauce, toast. Dry toast, no butter. I can see why, when your stomach feels as tender as a toddler's, it might be appealing to know that only soft, white things are going into it. A call to the doctor is probably in order today, alas.
For the rest of us, here's a recipe for (Bis)Quick Applesauce Muffins that we always made growing up. It's no Santa Lucia breakfast, but I dare you to eat just one:
2 c. Bisquick
1/4 c. sugar
1 t. cinnamon
1/2 c. applesauce
1 slightly beaten egg
2 T. vegetable oil
Mix ingredients together for 30 seconds. Fill muffin pans 3/4 full. Bake for
12 10 minutes at 400 degrees F. Cool slightly, then dip top lightly in melted butter, then in cinnamon sugar. I don't remember how many they make, maybe Makes a dozen. I'm going to go make them so I'll let you know. Photos tomorrow [munch munch].
Speaking of Betty Crocker, the inventor of Bisquick, how adorable are these little tree cookies. I will make them the second I get caught up. I'm all about the packaged sugar-cookie dough. My favorite Christmas cookies, hands down, are the kind you see at kid's school parties: sugar cookie with buttercream frosting and a few sprinkles. I like the stars, frosted in all sorts of pastels, with glittery bits. Maybe I'll do trees and stars. There are so many things I want to do.
But not until I get all my work done. I know it doesn't seem like it with all the dancing, and dolls, and dogs, and barfing, but I have been working like crazy to get all the orders that came in on the 4th and since the 4th out. There have been an almost-overwhelming number of orders this month so . . . please don't panic if you haven't received yours yet; I haven't forgotten you, I promise. Almost anything with a bird in it still has yet to leave the studio, but will be flying the coop in the next couple of days. Orders that came in after the 4th will be going out this week, too. I'll officially "close" on the 15th for a few weeks. So any orders placed between the December 15th and December 31st will not go out until around January 9, 2007.
Wow. 2007. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "Finish each day and be done with it. You have done what you could. Tomorrow is a new day; begin it well and serenely and with too high a spirit to be encumbered with your old nonsense." I like to think that about a new year, too.